


It's the springtime of my life

by brothebro



Series: Grandpapa Witcher Jaskier Tales [2]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Coen - Freeform, Eskel - Freeform, Gen, Granpapa Witcher Jaskier AU, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Humor, Lambert - Freeform, Oblivious Vesemir, Witcher Jaskier | Dandelion, geralt - Freeform, youth potion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-15 14:48:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28940220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brothebro/pseuds/brothebro
Summary: Vesemir should have noticed that something was off the moment he downed the potion he thought to be Cat. The fact alone that his sight wasn’t enhanced, that he didn’t feel any toxicity running through his veins, should have been a sign that something was wrong with it.Instead, he shrugged it off as yet another prank his father, grandmaster Julian of Kaer Morhen, set up. After all, Vesemir did snag the offending potion from Julian’s supplies before he set off for a quick journey around Kaedwen as the season turned to Autumn.Or: Vesemir accidentally drinks a youth potion and doesn't notice for monthsCan be read as a standalone
Relationships: Jaskier | Dandelion & Vesemir
Series: Grandpapa Witcher Jaskier Tales [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2122590
Comments: 14
Kudos: 97





	It's the springtime of my life

**Author's Note:**

> Been a hot minute since I posted [A hazy shade of winter](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24524770) which is the first part of this AU.  
> If you don't want to read it first, know that Jaskier is the founder of Kaer Morhen and Vesemir's father-surprise. And also an idiot (affectionately) who got himself a youth potion and a glamour from Tissaia because he got tired of witchering.

Vesemir should have noticed that something was off the moment he downed the potion he thought to be Cat. The fact alone that his sight wasn’t enhanced, that he didn’t feel any toxicity running through his veins, should have been a sign that something was wrong with it. 

Instead, he shrugged it off as yet another prank his father, grandmaster Julian of Kaer Morhen, set up. After all, Vesemir did snag the offending potion from Julian’s supplies before he set off for a quick journey around Kaedwen as the season turned to Autumn. 

He did what he thought best at the moment and downed a second Cat potion, this time smelling it before he did, making sure it would actually work. Wouldn’t be wise to traverse a dark cave an Elementa was using as a hideout without the necessary preparation. 

And if anything, Vesemir considered himself to be a wise man.

For someone that didn’t travel the Path frequently, advanced as his age was, Vesemir had very little trouble dealing with the monster. It should have surprised him that the Elementa was an easy foe, especially because Vesemir made it out without a single scratch. But the creature fell easily, and Vesemir felt energised like never before as he swung his sword and parried and danced around the massive monster.

That, too, should have tipped him off that something was amiss. 

But thrilled as he was from the successful hunt, trophy in hand and his favourite hat secured on his head, he marched into the little village he’d taken the contract from with nought a worry in his mind. 

The questioning looks the villagers gave him where nothing unusual, though several young maidens gathered together, faces flushed and talked in hushed voices, looking pointedly at him. 

In retrospect, this, too, should have shaken him a bit. Vesemir was an old man, and old men didn’t usually get looks and winks and giggles from flustered ladies. 

He guessed it was his prowess as a witcher, the way he walked proudly with the head of the beast held tightly in his hand, the two fine swords strapped on his back, the way his armour shone in the autumn afternoon sun.

The strange occurrences did not stop there, however. 

Wherever Vesemir went, he got the  _ looks.  _ Be it from ladies or gentlemen, he was desired in a way he hadn’t been since he was fresh off the Path, gallivanting throughout the Continent bedding whoever caught his fancy. He would never admit it out loud, but he was too similar to his father for his own good. A chip off the old block, as they used to say. 

He basked in this unexpected attention, taking lovers right and left, never questioning why that may be. He had the time of his life for the first time in - gods - a century and a half and he knew better than to question it. 

The days flew quickly this way, travelling from town to town completing contracts with newfound ease he didn’t know he had in him, his old joints cooperating with him for once. Soon enough, the winds started to chill, the days grew shorter and the nights longer and colder. It was time to make the trek back to the keep of the Wolves, back to prepare for his pups arrival. 

Julian greeted him at the gate, smile crooked and sly as always. There was something… playful and mischievous in his gaze but that Vesemir excused at his father being, well, himself.

“Come, son,” his father beckoned him inside the castle walls, “Anything interesting happen on the Path? Maybe a conquest of the romantic sort?” he raised a dark eyebrow, his eerie blue cat-eyes filled with something Vesemir couldn’t place. 

Vesemir found himself recounting his romantic escapades, his narrow escapes through windows in his attempt to avoid an angry spouse or two. He found himself talking of the Path and how entirely different the experience was for him this year. And Julian listened, this odd look never leaving his features.

Time flew easily, hunting for food, stoking up the larder to last the long cold months of the winter, and keeping up with their training, honing their swordsmanship and sign use whenever they could. It wasn’t long before the pups made it home. 

Vesemir was cleaning the courtyard from the sticks and dirt the harsh north wind carried there the previous night when Julian came running towards the portcullis mechanism, with a big smile painted on his features. 

“They’re here son! All of them together no less!” he shouted excitedly, now skipping instead of running. “They brought a friend with them too! A Griffin, from what I can tell.”

Vesemir hummed and dropped the broom he was holding, joining his father at the gate. 

He nodded a greeting when the young Wolves reached the gate, feeling the corners of his mouth lift when he saw that all of them made it back in good health. The pups shared a questioning look with each other that, too, should have alerted the older witcher that something about him was amiss. But it didn’t and thinking back, it really fucking should have. 

“Who the fuck is this, Jaskier?” Lambert pointed an accusing finger towards Vesemir which made the fencing instructor raise a dark eyebrow. 

“It’s grandmaster Julian to you,  _ pup _ ,” Julian grinned, obviously revelling at Lambert’s indignant spluttering. 

“But seriously,” Geralt spoke up, motioning a hand at Lambert to calm down, which, miraculously, worked, “what did you do to Vesemir, Julian?” 

“Vesemir can speak for himself,” Vesemir said annoyed, “Father did nothing to me. What the fuck are you on about pups? And more importantly is this the way we welcome a fellow witcher to our keep?” he gestured at the Griffin who looked unsure whether to feel awkward or amused. Poor man. 

“Ves, no offence,” Eskel said, dismounting his horse, “but you look barely twenty. Forgive us if we thought Julian had something to do with it.”

He looked what now? Twenty? He was over two hundred years old for fuck’s sake. That was impossible. Except… 

The Griffin whispered in Eskel’s ear, “Was he supposed to look older?” and Eskel nodded, confirming that there was indeed a change in his appearance. A change he hadn’t noticed at all, somehow.

Vesemir snapped his head to his father’s direction; the man was ready to burst into laughter, his eyes watering from his attempt to hold it in. 

And then it hit him like a rock. The potion that did nothing. The potion Vesemir thought was a stupid prank his father had concocted. It seemed that it had done something, after all. 

“Father,” Vesemir snarled, and Julian doubled over laughing loud and obnoxiously.

“Hey, it’s not my fault you went rummaging through my stuff, without asking! You know I never label potions.”

“Explain why you happened to have a youth potion lying about.” 

“Oh, that’s easy to answer. I got it for you as a present and would have gifted it to you this winter solstice but... you beat me to it.” Julian chuckled, before schooling his face into a serious expression, “ I swear on Melitele’s bouncy tits that I did not mean to prank you. Though you must admit it’s hilarious. How in the world didn’t you notice, son?”

Vesemir took a deep breath, calming himself because it seemed that this time his father was being genuine. He… appreciated the gesture, though to be honest, he wasn’t sure if he would have drunk the potion if he knew what it was. 

Well, it was too late for that now. 

He grunted, “Let’s bring the horses to the stables, shall we?” and turning to the Griffin he said, “Welcome to Kaer Morhen. What shall we call you, boy?” 

“Coen. Glad to be here, sir.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Biggest thanks to [concertconfetti](https://archiveofourown.org/users/concertconfetti/pseuds/concertconfetti) for Beta-ing <3
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this small fic! If you did, I'd love to hear your thoughts on it!  
> xoxo  
> Bro <3 
> 
> Ps. Vesemir doesn't own a mirror. And doesn't care in acquiring one :D


End file.
